Page 117 of Cold Mercy

I shift, instinctively trying to find the dock again, fingers brushing air instead of wood. He moves us farther from the group, like he wants privacy for whatever bullshit promise he’s about to feed me.

He pulls me in until my chest brushes his, until the only thing keeping me upright is his grip at my waist and my hands fisting into his shoulders. The dock disappears from my reach completely, and suddenly I’m holding him instead of anything solid.

“Reed,” I warn, voice sharp, breath already uneven. “Let go.”

He exhales slowly, almost amused.

“Careful,” he murmurs, voice low and warning. “If you keep rubbing up against me like that, I’m going to forget you supposedly hate me.”

I freeze, shock flashing hot through my chest. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. Something reckless takes over without asking for permission.

I lean in just enough that my lips brush his ear.

“Funny,” I breathe, teeth grazing my lower lip. “You act so tough, but look at you, hard already. You’re so easy, Thomas.”

The second the words leave my mouth, regret crashes in. What the fuck did I just say? That wasn’t planned. It felt like someone else hijacked my mouth and used it without asking.

“Can you blame me?” he murmurs. “You’re not exactly making this easy.”

My legs are still hooked around his hips, my arms locked around his shoulders because I don’t have a choice, because if I let go, I go under.

From afar, James’s voice explodes through the night.

“For fuck’s sake, just kiss already!”

“I will kill you, Calloway!” I shout back, panic spiking hot and sharp.

“Fair enough!” he yells, immediately backing off.

Thomas just laughs, the sound vibrating straight through me, like this is all some private joke I accidentally walked into.

“God. You’re so fucking cute when you’re angry.”

Cute. I’m going to drown him. I will drown an ex-marine with my bare hands.

My body betrays me instantly, because this is exactly the kind of closeness I swore I’d never let him have again.

“Put me back. Now.” My voice comes out sharp, clipped, and commanding. “I’m cold.”

He doesn’t argue, just nods once and moves. Like he fucking should.

The second we’re close enough to the dock, his hands slide to my hips. Bare skin, no warning, and before I can even process it, he lifts me clean out of the lake in one smooth motion with pure authority.

I gasp as the cold air hits me, and he sets me on the edge of the dock, my hands bracing behind me automatically. He stays in the water, between my legs.

I forget how to breathe. Water streams down his face, darkening his lashes, catching in his hair. His blue-green eyes lock onto mine, and the droplets only make them unfairly intense. Something holds me there, pins me in place, like if I break eye contact, the whole thing will shatter.

He plants his hands on the dock on either side of me, arms flexing as he leans in just enough to close the space. Not touching me, like he’s deliberately giving me the choice. Like he’s waiting to see if I’ll say something or bolt or do something stupid.

It's not a choice for me. He feels like a fucking need. He doesn’t climb out yet. He's just watching me like I’m the only thing on this lake worth noticing.

I push my hair back, still breathless, standing slowly.

“I’m going to get changed,” I snap. He tilts his head up at me, lips curving into that maddening half-smile.

“I'll get changed too, princess,” he says quietly.

My pulse jumps before I can choke it down. God, I hate him. I hate that part of me doesn’t.